Daughter of Texas (6 page)

“Most of my volunteer time is spent giving dance lessons to the children.”

Impressed, he said, “How long have you been helping out there?”

“Since before college.”

A long time. “Very admirable, Miss Pike.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Thanks. Look, I've got to go rehearse. You're not going to stay here, are you?”

“What time are you going to the shelter?”

“I'm usually there from noon until four.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Though I would like to visit Gabby today.”

“Are you sure you're up for rehearsing? Considering.” He gestured toward her biceps where the white square bandage covered the evidence of the violence she'd suffered.

Her gaze slid to her arm. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, determination lit up the dark depths. “My father would be the first person to say I shouldn't wallow. I can't just do nothing. I'll go crazy.”

He understood. He was itching to get out there and track down a murderer. “I'll have SAPD send a cruiser to patrol the area and I'll meet you at your car at noon.”

For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but then she sighed. “I'll see you then.”

With a tip of his hat, he watched her hurry into one of the dance studios. Once outside, he pulled out his phone and made the necessary arrangements with the San Antonio Police Department, then returned to Ranger headquarters. He put Corinna at the back of his mind so he could concentrate on finding the person responsible for destroying the Pike family. Or at least he tried.

 

Corinna's arm ached something fierce by the time she was finished rehearsing. After two strenuous sessions she wasn't surprised. Because of the painful wound and the sorrow consuming her heart, she didn't think she could manage not to cry in front of the children at Miriam's.

She sent a silent plea for forgiveness upward, to her father, to God, she didn't know which. She wasn't strong enough not to wallow just a little more.

She arranged for another dancer to cover her classes
at the shelter for the rest of the week. Though the shelter didn't pay, teaching the children was such a joy. Watching them learn to fouetté, plié and jeté across the floor melted her heart. It was hard to let go, to ask for help, but she had to do what was best for the kids.

As she left the dance studio and all the offers of condolences behind, she also acknowledged Ben had been right. She should have stayed at Gisella's for a few days before venturing out. Accepting the sympathy of others while trying to maintain her composure was exhausting.

Ben was waiting as promised by her compact car. Concern darkened his expression. “You look wiped out.”

It grated to agree with him. “Yeah, I am. I won't be going back to the shelter this week.”

Approval lit his eyes. “That's wise.”

His appreciation twisted her up inside. She wasn't sure if she liked it or resented it. She turned away to open her car door. “Can you take me to see Gabby now?”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Keeping pace with Ben's Jeep wasn't hard. The man drove well under the speed limit. Was that for her benefit? Or was he always so cautious?

She followed him to an apartment complex. The well-kept grounds and pristine buildings were upscale. She wasn't sure what she'd expected. A few mothers with youngsters in strollers walked along a paved path rimming the property. Here and there were other signs of children, a Big Wheel on the porch of one apartment, a doll sitting on the steps of another. Clearly this was a
family-oriented place. She peeked at Ben. Was he the settle-down type, not the swinging-bachelor type? Her palms began to sweat.

Ben led the way to his upstairs unit and he opened the door and motioned her inside. Curiosity propelled her forward. What kind of home did he keep? Was he a neatnik? Or would his place be the stereotypical bachelor pad? Somehow, she doubted it.

She found his apartment tidy, yet lived in. The leather couch showed signs of age in the distressed patches. A well-loved armchair looked invitingly comfortable. The beige carpet beneath the shocking-red area rug showed signs of being freshly vacuumed. The opposite wall was dominated by a plasma screen.

“Gabby,” she called out as the bookcase next to the television drew her attention. She made kissing noises that usually enticed the cat to see what was going on.

Ben's books were a mixture of contemporary fiction titles alongside worn-leather classics. But it was the framed photos on the shelves that captured her interest. A photo of her father and Ben on a fishing trip. Another of a hunting excursion. Photos of various Christmases and Thanksgivings at her house. She was in several photos alongside her father. Her family was his family. Her throat tightened. There would never be another photo opportunity with her father again.

Her gaze snagged on an item sitting prominently on the top shelf. A medium-sized globe made of wood and polished brass. A gift she'd given to Ben a few years ago. Her father had insisted they give a present to Ben as well as to each other every year. Usually she'd let her father
buy Ben's gift since she had no idea what Ben would want or need and really had no interest in finding out.

But this particular year, her father had been tied up with work and had asked her to pick the gift. She'd seen the globe in a little boutique on the Riverwalk. For some reason, she'd felt compelled to buy it. She could still remember the smile on Ben's face when he opened the box. And could remember the way that smile had made her feel proud that she'd found something he liked. It had been at odds with her feelings for Ben. Did he know she'd chosen it just for him?

“Here she is,” Ben said, drawing her attention. The tabby ambled over and wound around her legs.

Bending down, she scooped up the cat. “Hi, baby.”

The cat purred in response.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Ben asked heading toward the kitchen.

“I don't want to keep you from…” the words
finding my father's killer
stuck in her throat. “Your job.”

She put Gabby down and followed him. Even Ben's kitchen was orderly. No breakfast dishes in the sink, no crumbs on the counter. The chrome appliances shone as if recently wiped down.

“You're not.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and held it up.

Taking the bottle, she noticed another framed photo on the kitchen wall. This one was from her college graduation party. She and Ben flanked her father. Corinna had been upset when her father insisted Ben be in the photo. This was her big day, she hadn't wanted to share it with Ben. But now looking at the picture, she'd give
anything to go back to her grad night. She'd endure anyone and anything to have her father back.

“We should talk about your father's funeral.”

His words slammed into her stomach as solidly as a fist. She didn't want to think about a funeral. Didn't want to think about saying goodbye. But she knew it had to be done.

She nodded and numbly walked into the living room. She sat on the couch. He took a seat in the armchair. “Did your father have a will?”

“He did. I'm sure our family lawyer, Marsden Boyle, will have a copy.”

“Do you know what your father's wishes were for his burial?”

She swallowed the bile rising to burn her throat. “No. That wasn't something we talked about.”

Ben nodded. “Most people don't. I believe your dad has a plot next to your mother.”

“Yes, you're right.” As did she. A shudder ran over her limbs. “I'm sure he'd want his pastor to do the service. Would you mind contacting him?”

“Not at all.” Ben contemplated her a moment. “I can talk with the funeral home as well and take care of everything for you if you'd prefer.”

She looked away to blink back tears. “I would, thank you.”

Meow.

Gabby hopped onto the couch beside Corinna. Thankful for her cat, Corinna gathered her in her arms and buried her face in the soft fur.

“Corinna, if this is too painful, we can talk more about it later,” Ben said.

Lifting her head, she said, “I just can't believe he's really gone.”

Ben moved to sit beside her. He slid an arm around her and pulled her to his chest. “You'll get through this. We'll all get through this.”

She wanted to believe Ben. But she feared her world was cracking into a million jagged pieces and if she weren't careful, she'd shatter too.

“I
s he always so…” Corinna looked for the right word. She wasn't sure how to describe Ben. “Protective? Compulsively neat? Efficient?”

Gisella laughed. “You've known him longer than I have, don't you know?”

“Not really.” Corinna reached for the popcorn bowl. They were sitting on the couch in Gisella's living room watching a chick flick, but Corinna's mind wasn't on the movie. She was thinking about Ben. About how solicitous he'd been from the beginning of this nightmare. About how protective and accommodating he was. She knew he was hurting just as badly as she was but he didn't show it.

She supposed the axiom that men compartmentalize their emotions had to be true. At least in Ben's case.

“What do you mean, not really?” Gisella asked, her dark eyes alight with curiosity.

Corinna picked at the popcorn, crumbling the fluffy kernels between her fingers and letting the crumbs fall to the napkin in her lap. “I've known him a long time but I don't really know him. What's he like at work?”

“Protective, compulsively neat, efficient,” Gisella replied with a grin.

Corinna threw a piece of popcorn at her. “That's helpful.”

Gisella sobered and paused the movie. “Really, Ben's a good guy. Your father thought highly of him. All the Rangers do.”

Corinna knew just how highly her father had thought of Ben. He'd been the golden boy. The one whom her father preferred. Bitter anger churned in her gut. She tried to ignore it. Ben had been so solicitous and caring the past few days as they all coped with the loss of her father. “It must be hard on the company to be without a captain.”

Gisella gave her a funny look. “Ben was promoted to captain. Didn't he tell you?”

“No.” But why would he? They weren't friends. Not really. She wasn't sure what their relationship was. Or why he'd been so caring toward her. She knew she hadn't been the kindest and most thoughtful person when he was around. She wondered if he knew that she resented his intrusion into her and her father's life.

It didn't matter now. Her father was gone.

She set the popcorn aside. “Do you mind if I bail on you? I'm suddenly really tired.”

“Not at all,” Gisella said, her eyebrows drawing together. “Let me know if I can do anything for you.”

“Thanks.” Corinna rose and headed toward the spare room Gisella had loaned her. She hoped she'd find some sleep because she knew tomorrow she'd need her strength. Tomorrow she and Ben would be
working together to put the final touches on the funeral arrangements. Not a task she was looking forward to.

A part of her longed to reach out to God for solace. To ask for help, strength, comfort. But she couldn't. Her heart felt hard within her chest. A cold stone where warmth once had surged.

Maybe turning to stone was what it was going to take to survive this.

 

A scratching noise brought Corinna out of a deep sleep. She lay immobile on the bed. Her mind mentally cataloged her surroundings. She was at Gisella's, in the spare bedroom. Dresser to the left, door to the right. A window sat opposite from the bed. The blinds were drawn closed and artificial light from the street lamp outside shone through the side cracks. For a moment, she wondered if she'd dreamt the noise.

A shadow passed by the crack, momentarily blotting out the light seeping in. The scratching resumed. Alarm jolted her heart rate. Someone was trying to get in through the window. She bolted from the bed and ran to Gisella's room. She rapped on the door before bursting in. “Gisella!”

The Ranger sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “Corinna? What's wrong?”

“I think someone's trying to get in through my window.”

Gisella threw back the covers, jumped from the bed in her shorts and T-shirt and retrieved her sidearm from the drawer of her nightstand. “Stay here,” she ordered as she hurried from the room.

Corinna hated the helpless feeling stealing over her
as she sank to the floor and waited for the Ranger to return. A prayer rose but she squashed it. Why pray when she didn't think God would listen?

Time ticked slowly by. The silence closed in on Corinna. What was happening? Had the Ranger confronted the person trying to break in? Was she in trouble and in need of help?

Corinna rose on shaky legs and was about to open the bedroom door when Gisella came back, looking grim.

“Guy ran off. The SAPD officer gave chase but lost him.” She put her weapon back into the drawer. “He'd removed the screen and was working to jimmie the window lock.”

Corinna shuddered. “Maybe I should go somewhere else. I don't want to put you in danger.”

Gisella gave her a funny look. “Uh, that's what I get paid the big bucks for. Don't worry. You're safe here. SAPD will double the security. Tomorrow I'll get bolt locks for all the windows.”

“Why do you think he tried to break in here? What does he want with me?”

“You can ID him.”

“Right.” Which gave them the upper hand.

And hopefully that much closer to bringing the guy to justice.

But justice wouldn't bring her father back. Heavy sorrow weighted her down as she returned to her room and tried for sleep that never came. Especially after Gisella called Ben and insisted Corinna talk to him. He'd sounded frantic and she'd been adamant he not come over, saying she really needed to sleep. She hadn't
wanted to deal with him fussing over her when there was nothing he could do anyway. Of course, he hadn't listened to her and she'd heard him arrive a short time later, but she feigned sleep. She wasn't sure when he finally left.

Later the next afternoon, Corinna steeled herself to see Ben as he pulled into the driveway of Gisella's house.

“Were you able to get some rest after this morning's scare?” Ben asked as Corinna slid into the passenger seat. He peered at her with concern.

She stuffed her gym bag with her dance clothes inside, beneath her feet. “So-so.”

“This will be over soon. We'll catch the guy,” he said softly.

She blinked back sudden tears, hating how close to the surface they were. She missed her father terribly. She despaired that no amount of time would heal the empty space in her life. The haunting image of her father's dead body tortured her mind. She focused her gaze on the afternoon traffic in an attempt to clear her thoughts.

At the Rangers' headquarters Ben escorted her to the conference room. She was acutely aware of his hand at the base of her back, the slight pressure both reassuring and chaotic to her system. She wanted to turn to him and curl into his embrace and forget that the world and its evil existed.

But she didn't.

She wanted to be tougher than that. She wanted to stand on her own two feet, not lean on a man, even one like Ben. She wanted to be her father's daughter. Strong and courageous. And in control.

When they stepped inside the conference room, she moved away from him. Better to not to have him touching her so she could think.

Corinna smiled at the lone woman sitting at the big oval table. She was pretty with wispy brunette hair and wide green eyes. Next to an open laptop computer on the table, a sketch pad and pencil waited.

Ben made the introductions.

Corinna offered the other woman her hand. “Nice to meet you, Paige. Thank you for coming down to San Antonio on such short notice.”

“I didn't mind at all.” She touched Corinna's hand and said, “I'm so sorry about your father.”

Swallowing back a lump of sorrow, Corinna murmured, “Thank you.”

Paige gathered her materials. “Shall we get to work?”

Ben held out a chair for Corinna. When she was seated, he said, “I'll be back in a bit. If you need anything, let me know. I'll be in my—your father's—office.”

For a moment his expression crumbled, revealing the heartache he was trying so hard to hide.

Her own sorrow answered by thumping against her ribs and burning the backs of her eyelids. Against her will, Corinna's heart twisted with pain and empathy. Gisella had told her Ben had been promoted to captain. The news had hurt at first, more concrete evidence her father was gone, but it was selfish not to wish Ben well. And clearly he was uncomfortable assuming her father's office as his own.

She touched his arm before he could turn away. “It's
your office now. I know Dad would be proud to have you taking over. It's what he groomed you for.”

Ben laid a hand over hers and gave a slight squeeze. “Thank you.”

She held his gaze until she couldn't stand to see her own anguish reflected in the hazel depths. Swallowing hard, she drew her hand back and studied her nails.

“Ladies,” Ben said and exited the room.

Corinna focused on Paige and the task that needed to be accomplished. “So how do we do this?”

Paige explained and Corinna tried to recall the man she'd shot at the night before.

Paige paused with her pencil hovering above the paper. “Were his eyes wide set or closer together?”

“I don't—” Frustrated with her memory, Corinna shrugged. “I can't say for sure. I barely caught a glimpse of him.”

Paige smiled, her brown eyes gentle. “I know this is difficult. Can you close your eyes and visualize the moment you saw him?”

With a sigh, Corinna closed her eyes and thought back to the split second when the man, outlined by the moon against the open patio doors, had turned to face her. “His eyes were not wide set. But not too close together either.”

“Were they round or almond-shaped?”

“More almond-shaped but wide at the center. And dark. The man was definitely Hispanic.” Corinna opened her eyes, excited to remember a few details. “He had a high forehead and his eyebrows were bushy.”

Paige's hand moved quickly, the scratch of pencil scraping against paper the only sound in the room. When
Paige turned the sketch around, she said, “Something like this?”

Corinna studied the image of a man's face. Was he the man who'd broken into her home? She bit her lip in uncertainty.

The drawing showed an oval face, bushy eyebrows, a high forehead and oval eyes. Very generic features. Paige had penciled in straight, short hair swept back. The man seemed familiar but then again…she'd looked through hundreds of mug shots and so many had seemed familiar. “It could be. But I couldn't swear to it in a court of law.”

“If Ben can catch this guy and he has the murder weapon that killed Captain Pike, then you won't have to testify,” Paige said matter-of-factly.

But if the murder weapon wasn't found, linking the man who'd broken into her father's house to the murder, then Corinna's testimony could be the only thing standing in the way of his freedom. She couldn't make a mistake.

Doing so could cost her her life.

She wished she could pray for God to orchestrate the killer's downfall. But she'd given up hope that God listened to her prayers.

She'd just have to trust in Ben's ability to do his job. And hope Ben got to the killer before he got to Corinna.

 

Ben sat at the mahogany desk, in front of him were several stacks of files that needed to be reviewed—a few from Greg's office at the station and many from his home office. He'd cleared out the file cabinet and the
desk drawers at both places, but so far hadn't found any clues that revealed what his captain had been working on. They'd searched Greg's office in the Pike house once again after this latest break-in, but still, nothing.

Every minute ticking by meant the killer was that much closer to getting away with murder.

Dropping his head into his hands, Ben prayed. “Please, Lord, let me find something, anything, which will lead us to the person who killed my friend and mentor. I ask this in Your Son's name, amen.”

“Do you always pray when you're working?”

He lifted his head to find Corinna standing in the doorway. A piece of paper fluttered in her hand. Awareness of how angry she was at God made Ben want to tread tenderly.

He nodded. “I pray whenever I feel the need. I know God listens no matter where I am. Your father taught me as much.”

The derision in her expression left no doubt she disagreed and that pained him. She shrugged as she walked farther into the office. Her snug capri pants, loose-fitting blouse and sandals emphasized her diminutive stature. She appeared younger than her twenty-five years with dark circles under her eyes marring her porcelain-pale complexion.

He gestured to the paper she held. “May I see the sketch?”

She glided forward, her gaze taking in the desk and the wall full of her father's achievements. Her mouth tightened as if she were trying hard to keep her emotions held back.

Sympathy swelling, Ben rose and rounded the desk.
Compelled by the need to touch her, he laid a hand on her bare arm, her skin warm, her bones so delicate. “Are you holding up?”

“Yes.” The single word held a world of hurt and anguish.

His chest tightened. He wrapped his arms around her, offering her what comfort he could, knowing it wasn't nearly enough. How did he soothe away the loss of a parent? He couldn't. And he was a fool to try.

For a split second, she seemed to melt, but just as quickly, she became rigid, withdrawing into herself before pulling out of his arms. He let his hands drop to his sides, unsure why her rejection hurt. It wasn't like he had any emotional investment in her other than his promise to Greg.

Yeah, sure, he thought she was beautiful in the way one thought a sparkling piece of jewelry behind a glass case was beautiful. And he certainly didn't want anything bad to happen to her.

But he didn't understand why every time she was around he felt compelled to draw her to him, to shield her, to make her hurt go away. He decided it was only because she seemed so vulnerable and fragile, as if any second she'd shatter into a million pieces. He couldn't let that happen.